The Lost Dandelion
by Girl of Dandelions
Summary: Being the Mockingjay's daughter doesn't make Willow Mellark behave well. She makes problems and makes her parents worried. Until one day, Willow finds herself lost somewhere between Twelve and Thirteen. She doesn't know that it's actually by design she's there and that everything happened to her parents in the arena once happens to her again now. The question is; Who designs it?
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. Suzanne Collins does. I really thank her for creating such a great novel series.**

There are some mockingjays chirping outside. Their melodious voices have carried me away, making me sleepy as if they're lullaby to me. The weather is fresh and consoling. I can fall asleep now if I don't remind myself that I am still in the teachers' room, being lectured by Mrs. Wilson about me ditching math class today. She is one of the most annoying teachers I know. And it's like the hundredth time I'm being lectured and scolded by her. I am getting immune to her, which I find really amazing since most of my friends dread her a lot.

"Listen to me, Miss Mellark, if you skip one of your classes again, I'll summon your parents here," she says threateningly.

"Sure, you can call them now if you want," I respond nonchalantly, flashing a mocking smile at her.

Mrs. Wilson glares at me. Her grey eyes look somewhat eerie now. She must be very offended by my words. But, I don't really care. "I don't care if your parents are important people, if you make a mistake, you get detention just like the other students."

I shrugged. "I never wish my parents are the victors of the Hunger Games who sparked the rebellion, either."

"You shouldn't have said something like that, Miss Mellark."

After about twenty minutes later filled with wordy and boring lectures on how I should behave as a student, especially as the daughter of the Mockingjay, Mrs. Wilson lets me out. She watches me as I walk into my next class to make sure I am not going to run away again. I told you she's that annoying.

My next class is history. Damn it! I always hate history class. Not that I hate the lesson or the teacher. I just hate the attention I get during the class. My friends will usually look at me every time my parents' names are mentioned. And since they played an important role during the Games and the rebellion itself, their names are mentioned a lot. My friends will usually ask stupid questions like ; "Have they ever told you that?", "What did they say to you about the mutts?", or more annoyingly, they will suddenly stare at me and blurt out some pathetic remarks; "Your mother is so brave.", "Your father is amazing.", or "I really respect your parents." But, there are also those who sarcastically say, "But, they are crazy, aren't they? What is it like to have two mentally disoriented parents, Willow?" I once got into trouble when I punched a boy in my class after he said that. Sometimes, I still hear some mocking remarks, especially by those kids who moved in to Twelve from One, Two, or Thirteen, but I no longer care.

I see my parents' names written on the whiteboard when I enter the classroom. Oh, not again. Mr. Taylor must be explaining about the Games again. It's like the story of them never ends. There's something new that we should learn about them in every meeting. Last week, I was really happy when we learnt about what happened to the world before Panem existed. Because no one would look at me to say or ask something stupid. I always hate popularity, but I got it even without asking it just because my mother is Katniss Everdeen and my father is Peeta Mellark. Yeah, everyone in Panem knows them, making them like celebrities.

Mr. Taylor stops talking when I walk in. He looks at me questioningly, probably wondering why I come half an hour late. But, before he asks me anything, I've handed him my detention slip and he lets me sit without any further question. Then, he continues his explanation. He is a good teacher and won't pry at anyone. I'll like him better if he doesn't teach history.

I sit beside my best friend, Claire, so grateful that she has kindly saved me a seat. "We're discussing about why your mother voted yes for the Hunger Games using Capitol children as the tributes," she whispers.

I just nod and take out my notebook from my bag. It was supposed to be a secret, Dad once told me. Whatever the victors vote, it's supposed to be a secret. But, some of the information was somehow leaked to the public.

"Can anyone guess why Katniss Everdeen voted 'yes' for the Games?"

Everyone in the class turns silent and it takes me five seconds to realize that they're staring at me. Maybe they thought I were so genius that I knew everything about my parents.

"Miss Mellark," Mr. Taylor calls.

I look up and raise my eyebrows.

"Do you know why?"

I shrugged. "They never told me." Of course, my mother will never ever tell me anything about the Games or the Wars which killed her sister and friends. Sometimes, I hate her for being that weak, despite everyone thinking she's so brave and strong. My father also lost his friends and all his family during the Wars, and worse, he's hijacked by the Capitol, yet he can still tell many things about his past. Sometimes, he also joked about the people of the Capitol or what happened during the Games, before my mother came and told him to not speak anything again about them. If I know something about their past, it mostly comes from Father. He's a calm and funny person. My mother, in the other hand, doesn't want to talk much about the Games. Father says she's still much traumatized by everything. I often hear her screaming and crying at night that scared the hell out of me and my little brother. But, over time, I learnt to get used to it. I just wonder why Mother doesn't. And sometimes, thinking of it only makes me hate her even more.

"Your parents never did?" Nick, the boy who sits behind me asks. He's one of the most curious friends I have who'll constantly annoy me with his stupid questions in every class I have with him. I don't care if he's popular at our school. He's a jerk to me.

I shake my head in respond. "Or maybe I forget if my father ever told me that." But, I don't think Father knows, either.

"Can anyone state their opinion, please?" Mr. Taylor looks at the whole class.

"Can I answer, Willow?" Claire asks, looking at me.

"Sure, why should you worry about me? Anyone may answer," I say, slightly annoyed. But, I wonder what Claire will say and how she knows or thinks about that. She's the daughter of my father's childhood best friend's brother, yet I doubt she knows anything.

Claire raises her hand and Mr. Taylor directly looks at her. "Yes, Miss Cartwright?"

She stands up from her seat and hesitantly says, "Well, I think," she pauses, thinking, "because she wanted to trick President Alma Coin by pretending that she's in her side. So, that Alma Coin wouldn't think Katniss Everdeen as her threat."

Everyone in the class is so silent now. I look up at Claire, still wondering.

"And then," Claire continues, "she killed her instead of President Snow."

_After that, Snow died. And my mother went into a deep frustration while people were debating her case in the court, _I add.

"That's interesting," Mr. Taylor says. He goes on explaining about life after wars and all. I don't pay attention anymore. I'm absorbed into Claire's words. _Why?_ All these years, I'd been wondering why Mother voted 'yes' for the Games for Capitol children. Father obviously voted 'no'. He told me about this long time ago, but he never stated his opinion about this to me. He only narrated the story. _But, why? Why should Mother kill her?_

The bell finally rings. I immediately pack my belongings and leave the classroom. Ashton is waiting for me in the gate. He looks somewhat upset when she sees me. "So, you made a problem again today?"

"Uh, the gossip must spread really fast," I reply cynically.

"That's not very nice, Willow. It's the third time this week."

"Ah, now you sound so much like Mom, Ash. Unluckily, I'm not in the mood for lecture again."

Ashton rolls his eyes. "See what Mom will say."

"Yeah, you're always her favorite."

"But, you're Dad's favorite, Willow. That makes us even."

Ashton and I walk to our home in Victor's Village. I don't know why people still call it Victor's Village if the Games are over. But, people still remember that Mother, Father, and Uncle Haymitch were the Hunger Games victors. Their names are written in history and no body is going to forget it, I suppose. Thinking of it only makes me sick. They'll remember my parents as the heroes of Panem, the ones who sparked the rebellion. The truth is they didn't even mean to start it. When I learnt it for the first time, I said to Father, "It's just because she had Cinna who gave her brilliant costumes and _you_ who gave her that impression with your words that she could win everyone's heart. But, there's nothing else. She's only good at archery and hunting. The rest is she depended on you and Cinna." I know that I had offended Father by saying that. He didn't really show it, though. He just said that I could have said something nicer about Mother.

I don't remember since when exactly I got this 'difficult kid' and 'troublemaker' as my labels. I'm sixteen, three years older than Ashton. The word 'kid' should not be appropriate anymore. People say I should behave well because my mother is the Mockingjay. They expect too much from me. I want to be a normal kid, not the daughter of two Hunger Games victors who survived the Hunger Games twice and started the rebellion and used by Thirteen and the Capitol to make a propaganda during the Wars and end up somewhat mentally disoriented in Twelve. I never really tell this to anyone because I know it'll only create more problems. I've created enough of them that if my parents were not important people, people would have sure hated me. Maybe.

"Willow," Ashton suddenly stops walking, facepalming himself. "I forgot that I have a promise with Marcel. I promise to go to his house after school."

"You're totally forgetful," I say, annoyed.

"Tell Mom I'll be back before it gets dark, okay," he says, running to opposite direction.

After Ashton disappears, I decide that I don't want to go home now. Mrs. Wilson must have called Mom and I'm sure she's really mad at me. I don't want to be told to be like this or that again this time. So, I walk to Claire's house, instead.

She is helping her father in the shop when I arrive. Claire's father runs a shoe shop, like his family did before the Wars. He just continued it since Aunt Delly is married to a man from Thirteen and living there. I decide to help them, sorting out the shoes which have just come from Eight.

"You remember Sophia? She's going to get married next week," Claire says as we do our work. Of course, I remember Sophia. She's Aunt Delly's daughter. She's twenty two and pretty much like her mother who will smile friendlily at almost everyone she knows. I met her when I followed Claire to Thirteen for vacation a few years ago.

"Are we invited too?" I ask.

"Absolutely. I'm sure she misses you. And Aunt Delly must really want to see your parents."

"Yeah, it's been years."

After we are done with our jobs, Mr. Cartwright invites me to have dinner with his family. He has three children, Claire being the youngest one. The other two have been married and living in other districts. So, there are only four of us in the dining table.

"Have you told your mom that you're coming over to my house?" Claire asks as we wash the dishes.

"Oh, never mind her," is my only response. But, then I remember Ashton. Mother may be upset that all of her kids go without her permission now. Alright, sometimes she doesn't ask anything when we come home late. But, I don't know what kind of mood she's having this moment. "Claire," I call softly.

Claire looks at me, waiting for my next words. She knows from my voice that I'm going to ask something serious. Claire Cartwright. She's been always my best friend.

"How did you know that?"

"Know what?" she doesn't look at me again. Her eyes are averted to the dishes she's washing. "About your mother voting yes for the Games?"

"Exactly," I say. I'm curious what she'll say next.

"Haymitch told me once about it. It's actually more complicated than it, Willow," she pauses. "I think she also finally realized that the bomb that killed her sister was under her order. And your mother thought that with her dictatorship, Coin only could be the next Snow. It's better to extinguish her before it's too late."

I look at her, pondering. "So…"

"You can ask her yourself, Willow."

I shake my head and flash a lopsided smile. "You know how my relationship with my mother is."

When I walk out of Claire's house, it's already quiet late in the evening. I still don't want to go directly home, so I walk to my father's bakery in town, instead. He runs a bakery just like his family did once. It's his life, just like how Mother still goes out into the woods to hunt sometimes. They make money from them. But, the main point is they do that because they love it.

To my dismay, Father has closed the bakery. The lights are off and the windows have been shut. But, I can still smell the warm bread penetrating in the air. So, he must just leave a few minutes ago. I scowl at myself and rush to walk home when I carelessly bump into a trash can in front of the bakery. The sound of hard metal hitting the ground startles me and I jump in the air. Piles of rubbish are now scattered on the ground. Father won't be mad at me for this, I know. He'll just tell me to be careful next time. But, I don't have the heart to leave it that way and let Father clean the mess tomorrow. So, I bow over and start picking them up. Then, something catches my attention.

White roses.

**A.N. This is my first Hunger Games fan fiction. I just hope you enjoy it and show some honest support since I am still really new in writing fan fiction. Anyway, I love reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2

My mother always hates white roses. No one ever explains why to me. I know she loves dandelions because they remind her of hope, her father, and my father. She used to tell me that Father is like her dandelion in the spring. I don't really understand what she meant, though. But, white roses? Why? I can't guess.

The flowers are still fresh and unbearably beautiful. Maybe Father threw them out because he knows Mother won't like them. But, I pick them up and stuff them into my pocket. I wonder where Father got them from. Someone sent them to him? I'm not sure. I just like them.

As I make my way home, I think of some lies and excuses I can say to Mom if she asks me why I made a problem again today. Mom and Dad are home by now. Probably Ashton has told them too and I have to face my fate. Oh, another lecture on how I should behave at school. But, in the end I decide I'll just tell the truth and ignore her.

There is a small road that leads to my home through the backyard. I make my way there. The lights are dim and if I am careful enough, I can sneak in without anyone knowing. But, the odds are apparently not in my favor today, my mother is in the backyard too, right in the doorway. Her hands are stained with dirt, cleaning her kills from hunting in the woods. She looks up when she realizes my presence.

"Thinking that you can be safe this time?" Mother says, her voice sounding upset. "Why did you make a problem again, Willow?"

I walk to her and shrug. "I suck at math."

"So, because you suck at math, you're allowed to run away?"

I don't answer. I actually want to argue, but I know it'll only create more trouble to me.

"What is that in your pocket?"

"Nothing, Mom. You won't like them, anyway," I reply nonchalantly, ready to walk away. I want to end this awkward, pointless conversation soon.

She frowns and insists on knowing. It's like I've just shoplifted or something. But, I take them out eventually.

"Where did you get them?" I can't read her emotion. The lights are too dim for me to see her face. But, she sounds either furious or frightened.

"I found them in the trash can in front of the bakery," I say in defense, raising my voice.

Her eyes widen, but she doesn't say anything anymore. She storms inside and I can hear her calling Father's name. I decide to follow her and find them in the kitchen. I don't immediately enter, but I stop in the living room to listen.

"I don't know, Katniss. I found them in my bakery this morning and threw them out before I went home," Father says.

"But, Peeta, you know what that means," Mother sounds a bit a panic. I don't understand.

"Come on, he's dead. It's been thirty years. Don't let this small thing ruin your happiness."

"But, think about it, who sent it to you?"

Father doesn't answer. He puts his hand on Mother's shoulder and hugs her. I'm sure she's crying now. I'm so curious and really want to join them and ask. But, I don't think I should disturb them. Maybe it's something personal they want to keep to themselves from the Games. But, who is 'he'? Father said he's dead thirty years ago? I decide not to think about them again and walk up the stairs to my room.

Ashton is already asleep in his room. Tomorrow is Saturday. Usually we stay up late during the weekends. Maybe, he's tired. And I think I'm tired too. I'd better sleep now. I put my flowers into a vase and pour some water to it. Mother will not like them, but sometimes I'm really tickled to annoy her, making her upset, though in the end all I get is another reprimand. No wonder they call me 'difficult kid'. I put my flowers in the window and go to bed in pajamas.

In my dream, I meet a man who gives me a bucket of white roses. But, I can't see his face. Then, my mother comes, screaming at me not to receive the flowers. Suddenly, everything disappears. I find myself walking on the streets of Twelve before the Wars. There are poor, skinny kids crying by the streets, looking at me. What have I done to them? Nothing. I run around the Seam in confusion and finally wake up when I see people gathering in the square for the Reaping. This dream horrifies me. Is that life before the Wars?

I climb out of my bed and leave my bedroom. From the stairs, I can hear the TV is still on. It must be either Mom or Dad. I don't think I want to join in if that's Mom, but I see him. It's Dad sitting on the sofa. I can see his back from behind.

And he's watching the Hunger Games.


	3. Chapter 3

I have seen some excerpts of the Games at school. But, most of the tapes they show us have been censored. It's too violent, they said. So, I only got to see some parts of them. Never the bloodbath. The scenes in which the tributes are trying to kill each other are removed. But, now I'm staring at the scene when a tribute girl is throwing her knives to other tributes.

"Why, Dad? Why are you watching that again?" I must have startled Father with my almost yelling voice. But, he only looks around at me and smiles.

"Can't sleep too, dear?" he doesn't reply to my question.

I seat myself beside him and without averting my eyes off the screen, I say, "Bad dreams."

"What is it?" he asks, stroking my hair gently. This is what I probably like from him. He always shows his interest in everything I say, making me comfortable to talk to him.

"That I was in Twelve when the Hunger Games still existed." The girl on the screen is now throwing her knife to a boy who's trying to grab an orange backpack lying on the ground. The knife hits his back and he coughs up blood. There's another tribute girl in front of him who's also trying to grab the backpack. She grimaces when the boy's blood spurt out to her face. But, she manages to take the bag and runs, successfully avoiding the knife thrown at her.

"At least, that's only a dream," Father says.

I know. He went to the Hunger Games twice. Uncle Haymitch once told me that whoever went to the Games changed. They said that the Games and Wars have changed my parents. Everyone changed. _Everyone._ But, I never know how much they have changed or how they were like before the Wars because I only see my parents today.

"Why are you watching this again?" I repeat my question, mystified.

"Because you can never really run away from your problems," he says softly.

"And when you watch this, you feel better?" I ask wonderingly. It doesn't explain me anything. I still do not understand.

"So that I know they were real."

I remember the 'real or not real' game my parents used to play when I was kid. But, as I grow older I never hear them playing it again. "Real. They were real," I repeat rather dreamily.

"And I know that by watching this I'm not running away from my problems. You can never ever forget your problems entirely and go on with your life as if nothing happened," he sighs." You have to accept that it happened, no matter how bad it was, in order to feel alive again," Father continues. He sounds really wise and gentle that it makes me want to hug him tightly like what I used to do when I was kid, but I only lean my head on his shoulder as he continues stroking my dark hair. Then, I remember my mother who still looks pretty much frustrated, maybe still thinking about her sister, Primrose, or her friend, Madge, Rue, and Finnick, and anyone else that she lost. She can't accept it as much as Father can. It's hard to read her thoughts, though.

When I look up at the screen again, I see the girl with the orange backpack now running in the woods alone. I'm sure she's bewildered, but manages to look calm. She stumbles upon a lot of times and I feel really sorry for her. The screen averts to the kids still fighting in the Cornucopia bloodbath. I can't describe anything. There are blood and cries everywhere. It's so rough and horrifying. They never show us this scene at school. And my parents survived this thing twice? I can't even watch it without feeling nauseous.

"You were my age when it happened, weren't you, Dad?"

Father nods and we remain silent until the bloodbath ends. The career tributes gather around, picking things from Cornucopia. The dead tributes are scattered around them. I'm horrified looking at their damaged bodies. Stained with blood. Died painful death. The Careers Pack, which consist of five tributes, don't seem disturbed by the view. As the sounds of canon echo in the sky, they pile up everything they collect from the Cornucopia. It seems like they own anything now. Food, water, weapons, medicines, shelters, and pretty much everything they needed to survive. And they are so confident. If only they knew that they wouldn't win…

Just then, I hear a scream. It's been months since I hear her screaming at night, struggling to wake herself up from her own nightmares, telling herself that it's all over. Father gets up from the sofa and rushes to his room. "Willow, put all the tapes back if you've finished watching," he says before leaving. No one can comfort her in a situation like this but him.

I wonder if her nightmare tonight caused by the white roses I showed her. For the next ten minutes I still hear her screams. Mother screams out a lot of names. And I hear mine too. I can't concentrate anything on the screen until finally she stops. I skip some scenes and stop in a scene when the careers are beating up a boy mercilessly in the woods.

"Stop it! Stop it! I can help you if you stop!" he screams, but not begging.

"Stop it, Cato!" the girl who threw knives during the bloodbath yells. I remember some names from the history class, there are boys named Cato and Marvel. Girls named Glimmer and Clove, but I can't recognize them. Maybe the girl who threw knives is Clove.

Cato stops and lets the boy sits on the ground, panting. He looks severely injured with one of his arms and legs bleeding, his face full of bruises. I am sure if he is in a good physical state, he'd look handsome with his blond hair and blue eyes.

Blond hair and blue eyes? How stupid I was for not realizing that it was my father!

"What can you do, Lover Boy?" snaps a boy who I think is Marvel.

"I'm good with knives," he says assuringly. "And I can help you find her if you let me become your ally."

The career tributes look at each other, unsure. "You just declared your love for her last night and now you want to help us kill her?" Cato s norts.

"Trust me, you won't be disappointed. I know a lot of things you don't," he says and goes on telling them the reasons to believe him. Father is indeed good with words. He can convince people with his ability. If I were one of the careers, I know I'd be tricked too. Finally, they agree to let him become their ally.

They go on wandering in the forest. Clove gives my father a bandage and he uses it to wrap his bleeding arm. The camera then averts to the girl I saw earlier. She's preparing some snares before climbing in a tree. I really admire her survival skill when I realize it was Mom. I must pay little attention at school that I couldn't even identify my own parents. The people are right, I look a lot like her, except my blue eyes which I inherit from my father.

I skip the parts which do not have my father or mother in it. I watch the part when Father comes to a girl from Eight to finish her. He says sorry a lot of times before stabbing her with his knife. Sometimes, I forget that as the victor of the Hunger Games, he once killed people too, no matter how gentle and good I think he always is. But, that's the point. The Capitol could even make a noble-hearted person kill others. And they had it as their entertainment. I shudder at the thought of that.

When morning comes, I stop watching, thinking that Mom can catch me watching her Games. I put all of the tapes back to their box and stuff it under the table. I never thought that Father keeps them all. And I didn't know he still watches them sometimes. All these years, I had been wondering where I could watch them.

After breakfast, Mother and Father go into town. Ashton goes to his friend's house to finish a school project. I am left alone at home and since I haven't slept since midnight, I go to bed again. But, this time my dream becomes more frightening. It's like I am in the Hunger Games itself with my school friends and brother as my fellow tributes. I cry, I don't want to kill them. When I wake up, it's midday. I shower and get dressed. I am still alone at home. And the loneliness only reminds me of every bad dream I got, so I walk to Uncle Haymitch's house. Like usual, I never get in through the front door. I often come from the back door and startle him. But, when I reach the doorstep, I hear him talking with someone. I recognize it's Mother's voice, probably they're in the kitchen or the living room.

"It's useless, Haymitch, she's that hot-headed. Nothing can change her," I somehow feel they're talking about me.

"But, her relationship with her father is fine, right?"

I seat myself on a chair in the porch, trying to listen better.

"Of course, she is, because Peeta's always spoiling her."

"No, Katniss, that's because you and Willow are look alike. Don't you remember yourself when you were her age?" I hear Uncle Haymitch chuckle.

"But, I never skipped school or got into a fight." There's a pause. "It's like she doesn't respect me as her mother."

"Did you respect your mother too, Katniss?"

"I always respect her. I just lost my trust on her when she went into a deep depression after my father died and neglected us," Mom sighs. "You should try to talk to her. Peeta wants to send her to the university in Capitol after she graduates. I just don't want our relationship to be still like this when she leaves."

"Maybe she doesn't trust you too. But, don't worry, she'll realize everything herself. She's like you a lot, Katniss. We don't need to do anything to change her. She'll change when the time comes."

I walk myself back home, thinking. Maybe I'm really that difficult and ungrateful. But, what should I change from myself? I can't just suddenly change without any apparent reason. Maybe something will happen and change me? I'll just be waiting then. As long as it is _not_ the Hunger Games.

When I arrive at home, I find Father in the living room, sitting on his rocky chair. There's a letter in his hand. "Hey, Willow."

"Hey, Dad," I say. My mother is right, I love my father because he always understands me. That makes our relationship warm. He understands me better than Mom does.

"We're going to Thirteen next week."

"For Sophia's wedding?" I can't hide my excitement, as if I have forgot what I just heard in Uncle Haymitch's house. I really want to see her again and District 13 itself is interesting. They have underground buildings with sophisticated technology. After the Wars, they have built settlements on the ground too, but the underground buildings remain. Besides, I love travelling. Staying in Twelve for a long time bores me sometimes. I can't imagine the life people before the Wars had when they couldn't travel anywhere. This time I'm grateful for what my parents did thirty years ago.

"But, you've got to promise me something, Willow," Father's eyes turn serious. "You should behave yourself."

* * *

**A.N. I know I have a bunch of traffic, but the reviews? Okay, I know I can't force you to write a review. I just hope you'll understand it yourself. So, who else is excited to see the new Catching Fire posters? :D**


	4. Chapter 4

Trying to behave is not really easy. Even, if it's only for a week. I must do my homework and not skip any class. And when my parents or teachers scold me for something, I have to listen, not arguing. Or else, Father won't let me go to Thirteen. I didn't expect he'd make me like this. I almost fall asleep during math class, but manage to finish the homework with Father's help. My teacher seems so pleased with that. I only smile curtly when she says this is how I should behave. I know all of my efforts will be pointless since I'm only going to fail again when exams come. I suck at most of the subjects at school. Shame on me.

At home, I help my mother preparing dinner. We never talk when we do it which makes me more uncomfortable. I don't go home late or go to school late. I throw away my white roses and replace them with primroses I find in the Meadow to please my mother. I try to be a good kid this week. Just for this week. When Mother goes into the woods and Father is in his bakery, I watch the tapes with Ashton. He's so much like Father who's a pacifist and hates violence. We watch almost all the tapes Father has, from Uncle Haymitch's Games, Finnick Odair's, Annie Cresta's, Johanna Mason's and the Quarter Quell. It's like I have seen enough violence I can kill myself now.

Finally, the weekend comes. I bring a backpack for some extra clothes and a small bag for food and other things. My mother doesn't want to take a train because it'll remind her of the Hunger Games, so we are going to drive our car there. She helps me to braid my hair like hers before we leave. It's the first time she does that since our relationship turned cold.

We leave on Saturday morning. Claire's family has left yesterday afternoon. They took a train there. There's a road built in the forest which separates Twelve and Thirteen. There were a lot of roads built a few years after the Wars ended among the districts for ease of access to each other. Father is driving and Mother's constantly looking out the window.

"Isn't it very fresh here?" she says. I know she's happy. I love the forest too though I never really go hunting like her. But, suddenly she sounds sad again. "I remember Bonnie and Twill. They must be dead somewhere here."

"Never reached Thirteen," Father says.

I fall asleep when they start talking about other people I don't know. Maybe people in Thirteen or Twelve before the Wars. Ashton is already asleep earlier. He looks really sweet with his curly blonde hair when asleep like this. Oh, he is definitely always sweet, always being liked by the people in our districts and the people who know our parents. They'll usually say, "So, that is the Mockingjay's son." Always the Mockingjay's son. Never the Mockingjay's daughter. Never me.

I am glad I have no bad dream this time. I wake up when the car suddenly stops. We're still in the middle of the forest. When I look at my watch, it's almost midday. I see Mom and Dad getting out of the car to check out something.

"Katniss, I think there's something wrong with the machine," I hear Father say.

"The tires are flat too," Mother adds. Ashton and I immediately get out and join them.

"So, we can't continue our journey?" Ashton asks, worried.

"I'm afraid we can't," Dad says sadly.

"But, we should do something, Peeta," Mom insists.

Father is silent, thinking, and sits down on a big stone beside the road. "We're not really far away from Thirteen, are we? Maybe if I walk and ask some help, it'll solve the problem."

"But, how long?" Mom asks, unsure. "Can't we fix things ourselves? I thought you have checked everything."

"I'm sure I have checked everything before we left. It's just weird. It never happened."

I walk away to a willow tree as my parents are discussing. They take out a big map and put it on the ground to study it. Their faces turn really serious. Ashton follows me and we sit under the tree.

"So, this is what it's like to sit under myself," I say.

"Mom can eat herself and so can Dad," Ashton jokes.

"Yeah, katniss root and pita bread," we laugh.

"You can even climb yourself, Willow!" he says.

"Yes, and wait until we find an ash tree!" we laugh again. It's been a while since I can feel peaceful with myself and the people around me again. For years, I feel like I have been an awful sister, always scolding him for some unimportant things. Maybe I actually just envy him for he is so close with Mom, yet still has good relationship with Dad. Besides, everyone always praises him. He's a brilliant student at school and has a lot of friends. So unlike me. We keep joking and mocking at each other until Dad calls us.

He puts the map back to the car and looks at me and Ashton, "I'll go find the nearest village to ask for some help. You stay here with your mother."

"There's a village around here?" Ashton asks.

"It's part of the Thirteen, but the outermost part of it. It's the nearest we can find from the map," Mom explains.

"Is it far?" I ask.

"I am not really sure, Willow, but maybe it's two or three hours walk. But, I'll be fast," Dad must see the worries in my eyes. He smiles, comforting me. "And don't go too far from the car," he says again before leaving.

Mom can't just sit quietly when she's in the forest. She asks us to walk around, but still keep our distance short to the car. She shows us how she climbs a tree and sets a snare. She also shows us some edible plants. We spend hours listening to her explanation. When I was kid, I used to follow her to the woods and see her hunting. But, since our relationship turned cold, I never do that again. Now, I remember everything she once explained me. This is like the first time in years I'm having fun with her again.

Finally, we grow tired and hungry. Mom pulls out the picnic basket and we sit on the grass by the car. There are loaves of bread that Dad baked last night, cheese, raspberry jam, and lemon juice. They taste really good because indeed they're delicious and we're very hungry.

"Don't eat them all. You should leave some for your father," Mom protests when she sees me and Ashton gobble our food greedily.

After we finish eating, Ashton asks Mom to sing. She sings the Meadow song and all the birds go quiet. People say my voice is as melodious as her. When I was younger, my friends would ask me to sing various songs in music class. But, since I started making trouble, some of my friends left me. Maybe they better leave me. And I stop singing ever since. Except during music classes.

Mom proceeds to tell us some stories from her past, before the Games. Always before the Games. She tells us her experience when she was chased by bear, when she drowned Buttercup, and when she successfully shot a big deer.

"Your hunting partner, Gale, do you still actually love him?" I blurt out. And though she didn't mention his name in her stories, I know that she must be hunting with him when it happened. There. I did it again. We've been warm enough, but I bring up the dark side of her past. Someone who she thought was responsible for her sister's death. And isn't it inappropriate to ask it? If she were with him, Ashton and I wouldn't have existed. But, maybe I'm too curious.

But, she isn't mad. She isn't mad like I thought she would be. Mom looks at me deeply before saying, "No."

"I mean if he didn't design the bomb, would you still have a feeling for him?"

I can't read her emotion. When someone brings something up from her past, she'll wear this expression which is either sad, upset, hateful, or sorry. "Still, no."

"Why?" Ashton asks.

"Because you can't drive out rage with rage, or hatred with hatred," she simply says. There's a long pause before she speaks again, "Even if he didn't design the bomb, I'd finally realize that he's full of fire. I have plenty of fire myself. It took me that long before I realized that I don't need him, I need your father."

"Like a dandelion in the spring," Ashton says cheerfully.

"But, when you realized it, you've hurt him so many times. He thought you were sincere in the Games when you actually were not," I say. There's a short pause before I speak again. "You didn't love him right away."

Mom's eyes widen. She must note the cynic remark in my voice. "I've loved him before the Games started, Willow. I know because I cared when his name was called in the Reaping," she says defensively. "I just didn't realize it."

We all turn silent. There are mockingjays singing in the trees above us. Their songs are sad and heartbreaking. And suddenly the forest becomes an eerie place. Mom leaves us and sits on a big stone thirty feet away from us. Ashton nudges me in the elbow. When I look at him, I can see his eyes saying, _"Why, Willow? Why did you do it again?"_ I can't answer. I'm conflicted with myself. Maybe I still cannot drive away all the hatred in myself that I constantly verbally attack her. Bringing up her past. Mentioning someone she tries to forget. Mentioning the mistake she once created. But, what makes me actually hate her in the first place?

No one speaks again after that. When the sky slowly gets dark, I can see Mom turn really worried. She constantly looks at the direction Dad went to. I'm still conflicted with my own thoughts when she suddenly gets up and says, "He should have come back by now. It's been more than five hours." She sounds really anxious.

"We can just wait for another hour," Ashton says nonchalantly. Mom agrees. He walks into the forest and gets us some berries. I'm happy at least I have something fresh to eat. But, all of us sit and eat in silence. I don't know what actually causes this. Is it because what I've told Mom earlier? Or are we worried because Father hasn't returned? Or both?

When the sky finally turns completely dark, Mom can't bear it again. "I shouldn't have let him go alone," she's blaming herself. "He doesn't know the forest as much as I do. Besides, he can't run." I just remember that Dad has a prosthetic leg. I saw him struggling to run in the Quell. "Something might have happened. I'll go find him. Willow, stay here and take care of your brother and yourself." She walks into the car and takes out her bow and arrows and a small game bag. I didn't know she brought them all here. When she's about to leave, I find myself clinging to her. She seems surprised at first, but she decides to hug me closely. "I'll be fast, I promise," she whispers. She hugs Ashton and waves goodbye to us. Seeing her walking alone in the forest with her bow and arrows, looking for Father, suddenly reminds me of the Hunger Games. But, I immediately shake that thought away once she disappears in the darkness.

Now, there's only me with Ashton. He gathers some branches and we make a fire to warm up ourselves. I don't know how long we sit there until I finally feel bored, hungry, and thirsty. "I want to find some food. I'm hungry."

"I'm sure Dad won't be mad if you eat his bread and cheese," Ashton replies.

"But, it's our last food. Besides, I want to eat something else," I get up and rummage my small blue bag to find my flashlight. "Don't put out the fire so I can find you later," I say. I remember Mom set some traps somewhere in the forest. But, it still means I have to go deeper to the trees. It's dark, I can only see things from my flashlight. I try to convince myself that I don't need to feel afraid. My parents had been in the forest when there were more than twenty kids wanting to kill them. I'm alone, but no one wants me dead now.

I wander around the forest, trying not to go too far from Ashton's fire. But, I still fail to find it. When I find a blueberry bush, I immediately pick the fruits and stuff them to my bag, eating some. Finally, I feel tired and thirsty, so I sit down under a tree and drink the water in my bottle. I'm glad I still have some water, though not much. Then, I continue my search. With my flashlight, I scan the ground below me. It should be around here, I recall. But, the forest looks so different at night. When I look up, I realize I've gone too far from Ashton's fire. I can no longer see his flaming fire. It's just the darkness that surrounds me. I go panic, running to the direction I'm certain will lead me back to Ashton. But, instead, I'm driven deeper to the forest. It gets darker and darker. There are sounds I don't recognize that make me tremble slightly.

"Ashton! Ashton!" I'm shouting his name. No answer. I am terrified. I hate to be lost alone.

I want to walk again, but I am afraid I'll only go deeper away, so I sit down and start to eat my berries. If Mom and Dad have returned, they will look for me. So, I'll just wait here. When I almost run out of berries, I realize that there may be wild dogs or some rabid animals around here. A fire may shoo them away, but my hands are trembling with fear I can't make one. The willow tree I'm sitting under looks tall and strong enough. So, I decide to climb it. But, even when I'm above, I can't still see my brother's fire. He might have fallen asleep and the fire went out or I'm really far from him. I tie up myself to the tree with a belt like what Mom did in the Games. Then, I let my flashlight on, so in case someone's looking for me, they'll see my light. I fall asleep shortly after that.

In my dream I find myself in the Hunger Games, being hunted down by the Career Tributes. I flee away and climb a tree. That's when I realize that there's a tracker jackers' nest above me. I wake up, terrified. When I look up, I feel relieved. I am not in the Hunger Games. There's no tracker jackers' nest. There are only birds. At first I think they're mockingjays, but they're not singing. Instead they're like speaking. They are jabberjays.

"Let the Games begin."

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**A.N. Guys, thanks for showing your supports in my story. Either you follow, favorite, review, or even if you just read continuously, I need to say thanks :)**

**Anyway, I actually don't speak in English, so if you find my writing kinda weird in some ways, I am sorry, just tell me.**


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